


Silence

by AlphaKantSpell



Series: Devils and Spiders [1]
Category: Daredevil (2003), Daredevil (Comics), Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Marvel (Movies), Spider-Man (Comicverse), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Sexual Content, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-24
Updated: 2012-05-24
Packaged: 2017-11-05 23:14:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/412085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlphaKantSpell/pseuds/AlphaKantSpell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Matt doesn’t sleep at night and Peter starts to fret the reasons.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Silence

Silence

Took him longer than it should have but Peter noticed Matt’s unusual pattern after they slept together. The man didn’t actually sleep. There was lots of sex (lots of really good sex if he was being honest) and Peter would slip into sleep but Matt stayed awake the whole night. Every time Peter woke up Matt was awake – a little drowsy at times but awake. The knowledge was a little unnerving, knowing that he while he was conked out Mat just sat there; staring. It felt a lot like knowing he was on the wrong end of a one-way mirror. 

Peter ignored it their first night, since things were so new and it was their first time ‘doing the deed’ in an actual bed but Matt’s tiredness became hard to ignore. Matt did not experience sleepiness with any amount of grace expected of the superhero. He yawned like a mourning elephant and shoved his fist half down his throat to stem off the sound (which only made it that much worse). To compensate he drank coffee but that made him jittery than Peter was and it annoyed both men to no end. 

“Why don’t you sleep when we’re together?” Peter spat the question out like too many watermelon seeds in a mouthful. Matt just grinned. 

“Because I like listening to you breathe.” 

That answer was just stupidly romantic enough to get Peter off his trail for the next fortnight. Matt wasn’t staying the night anymore. Peter awoke to an icy bed and a message on his answering machine of Matt telling him not to worry and he had some late night runs to do. The bastard hadn’t looked so rested in weeks. Peter doubted he was actually fighting crime at three in the morning. Their new routine continued to the point that Matt would leave when Peter was still awake. 

“Stay.” It wasn’t a demand but both knew there were repercussions if Matt failed to act out this one request. Matt frowned in an expression Peter noted as guilt. Peter swallowed in disgust; disgusted at Matt for his midnight gallivanting and himself for being so needy. As much as he loved Aunt May and Uncle Ben he cursed them now and all that coddling he thrived on. All Peter ever wanted was to be held, to be loved. They weren’t even dating; not really. None of the others knew about their relationship or arrangement or whatever this meeting was between them before Matt’s libido found another woman. 

He was probably already seeing another woman as it was. 

“Okay,” Matt responded and slipped back into bed, hands touching Peter’s face again and a whole conversation took place between those two words. 

“Why don’t you sleep with me?” Peter shivered in his suit as he watched snowflakes plaster against windows of the highest buildings. Down below where they were on patrol the snowflakes melted into a cold mist. In the haze thugs breathed into numb hands but committed no crime more heinous than a few trashcan fires. They allowed the blips of warmth, though an uppity new officer hassled two men with obvious schizophrenia. Peter would swing down to defuse the three if their argument out of hand. 

“I do sleep with you.” Matt’s slimy smirk could enrage environmentalists. 

“No, I mean sleep, sleep. You stay awake the whole night. Don’t try to deny it. I might not be a human lie-detector but I know you don’t sleep.” 

“It’s complicated.” 

Always so cryptic. Peter would bet his year’s salary that nothing had ever been so complicated with Electra. 

As soon as that thought passed Peter felt awash with guilt. Electra was Matt’s soul, plain and simple. No reason to bring a dead woman into his jealousy fits. 

“Then un-complicate it.” 

Matt breathed in a low puff of air like a dragon. Shots were fired down below with the trio and Peter was on the ground slingshoting webs before Matt made a move. He didn’t want to hear any more excuses. To be frank he just wanted to show off his powers and prove to Matt that he wasn’t a man to screw around with. Yes he was sweet Peter Parker but he was Spiderman and Spiderman didn’t take nothin’ from nobody. 

They fought on opposite sides of the city for the next week. Matt lingered around Hell’s Kitchen and Peter cleared that area like it was sprayed by a skunk. 

Peter never imagined make-up sex in a dank supply closet of a courthouse but as Matt pelted his skin with kisses so strong they were bites any argument against was ruled out. A unanimous not-guilty plea ran through his skin that had nothing to do with the legal battle he was supposed to be taking pictures of. Matt in his lawyer get-up was almost as sexy as his Daredevil outfit and they hadn’t so much as spoken to each other in eight days, twelve hours. Matt argues the semantics of another half-hour; he counted the moments too. 

“When can I go to your house?” Peter asked around a mouthful of popcorn. Movie night usually dictated a serious-conversation-free-night but he could tell Matt’s mind was wandering. Captain America wasn’t a very good movie when they knew the man personally, even with the audio narration track so Matt could know what was going on without Peter explaining. Both men liked movies better with Peter narrating. 

“I don’t do that,” Matt answered in a familiar response. ‘I don’t do that’ applied to Baseball games, visiting relatives, going to Coney Island, and a multiple of other things Peter wanted to do but Matt was a stubborn stick in the mud-Murdock. 

“Com’on. I know your identity. You don’t have to hide.” 

It was one reason why Peter felt so freed by this relationship. Freer than any he’d had before because they both knew the other’s mask on and off. They didn’t have to hide. 

“I know.” 

Somewhere in the background the actor who portrayed Captain A was shot at by a fiery dame but neither cared to speculate Steve’s romances before Tony. Peter glared and though he knew Matt couldn’t see it the action made him feel better. Matt kept the same perfect posture as always, his staff between two palms like a royal scepter. Peter wanted to slug him. 

“Why don’t you want me to see it?”

“It’s private,” Matt hissed. Popcorn bowl in hand Peter stalked off to the bedroom for an early night. Matt used that same tone to the villains he brought to justice. Hearing it directed at him boiled Peter’s blood and made him want to curl up in tears. 

When did things get so bad? Peter felt like he’d missed a step to a song and was left careening into the atmosphere, bumbling into other people like a ship into a minefield. Even his analogies were mixed up. 

Matt found him on a rooftop somewhere around Queens three weeks later. There was no rushing into each other’s arms or grinding against a wall, the roof, into each other. Peter watched upside-down from an awning as Matt approached him like a statue being given a sudden burst of life. His movements were awkward but guarded. Both of them were a little unstable; Peter tended to use his “Crouching Spider Hidden Man” pose when stressed. 

“I don’t sleep when I’m with you because I can’t.” The straightforward explanation surprised the pair but Matt was the man without fear. “Noises.” He gestured to his ear with a wide wave, emphasizing everything around it. “I can’t sleep without a . . . chamber.” 

A chamber? He slept in a dungeon? Where there dungeons in New York? Maybe Matt’s church had one. Peter didn’t have much experience with the Catholic architecture but the idea didn’t seem too farfetched to him. 

“You sleep in a dungeon?” Peter frowned and Matt laughed.

“Maybe chamber’s not the right word.” 

“Well what is then?”

“Home.” Peter dropped down and ventured across the rooftop in three quick strides. Chewing at a lip Matt threw a palm out to Peter’s hand, sensitive finger pads against sensitive finger pads. The hairs on Peter’s nudged against Matt’s hand in an embrace so tight it was uncomfortable like a thick blanket tucked too snug. It was nice. Peter was one big, lanky quilt sewed by loving hands for less fortunate souls on a stormy night. There wasn’t a chance in the world Matt disserved the man in front of him. 

“Everything in my house has a place. It’s where I get my bearings. If anything gets out of place – ”

“You don’t have to explain.”

“Yes I do,” Matt huffed and threw off Peter’s wandering hands. He got the message: shut up and listen. 

“I’ve been an ass.” 

“Yes you have.”

“Will you be quiet for a minute? I’ve been an ass. I’ve never let anyone in my apartment because if something gets messed up it takes me weeks to fix everything. And Peter, you like to touch everything.” 

“Gee, thanks. I never noticed that.” 

Matt yanked him against his lips in a hot flush of want and agitation. It was like playing with a lit firecracker moments before it imploded. Peter groaned against the sensation and his hands started to map Matt’s landscape without his control. He was right. Peter loved to touch everything. 

When they parted smoke plumes bellowed between their pressed together mouths in the still, cold air. Peter was hard in his suit, nipples pebbled against Matt’s leather and cock bulging around Matt’s thigh between Peter’s legs.

“I want to share my sanctuary with you.” It was the best and most perfect description and Peter was chanting a chorus of yes as Matt took a knee and sucked him in clear view of any would-be Spiderman or Daredevil photographers. The onslaught of heat and cold, bites and kisses, nails and caressing fingers skyrocketed the over-sensitive and sex depraved man into sensual wonderland quicker than one could say, “Your friendly neighborhood Spiderman.” It was absolute bliss. Peter would have died had he not been so excited to see Matt’s apartment.

Ripping away Matt’s cowl, Peter grabbed tawny hair. A boneless Spiderman lent most his weight to Matt who didn’t argue more than an open mouthed kisses to space just above Peter’s hip. Peter tugged Matt’s mouth up to his own lips and the taller man bent at an odd angle to keep their positions. Kissing Peter was a bit like eating apple pie. He was sweet and homey and made a person recollect on good old-fashion American nostalgia. Kissing Peter left Matt’s gut warm for days but unsatisfied until he could have another bite. Sex with Peter was even better; like taking the front row at a favorite rock concert or the intense satisfaction at bringing a corrupt man to justice. No, greater than any of those things. Being with Peter was like finding home after a wrong turn, a place he knew he was safe and wanted. 

For the Man Without Fear the thought of ruining such a relationship was halting. 

No more. 

Matt pressed another kiss to Peter’s forehead and pulled his cowl back into place. He sprinted across rooftops to Hell’s Kitchen so quick he flew. Peter wasn’t slow to follow, swinging from building to building and cackling. Snowflakes danced across their skin as they raced. It felt nice; refreshing after their earlier rendezvous. Matt in particular was thankful for the chilly breeze. He wanted a clear head when he showed his apartment to Peter. 

All too soon they stood at the roof-top door to his apartment. Peter made a comment about his abode being a lair. A flood of uncharacteristic anxiety kept Matt from humoring the younger man. The last of his safety nets would come down tonight. Was he ready for this?

Moving like he’d heard an echo of Matt’s worries, Peter entwined their fingers together again. Even through gloves and leather Peter’s radiating heat could be felt. Matt unlocked the door and led Peter into his home. He didn’t need a safety net - he already had Peter for that job. 

“Wow! This is classier than I would have imagined,” Peter whistled as he noted the sleek edges to everything.  
Black and white played and over-occurring theme to the color and architecture and both seemed apt to describe Matt’s persona. In his world there was good and evil, justice and injustice. To a degree Peter believed the same but he had grown more lenient of gray-areas over his years. Darkness bled into most of the rooms with few light bulbs as oasis of stark lighting. Peter had to wonder why Matt had them in the first place. Spartan in furniture Matt owned a couch, a competent (if small) kitchen, and three adjoining rooms that felt cut into the walls like secret bookshelves from old horror movies. In all, the apartment felt enclosed with a low ceiling and thin halls connecting rooms. Peter imagined it was what the back rooms to a cathedral were like – hidden away and packed tight. 

Matt moved through the space like he’d forgotten about Peter’s presence. Another code was pressed into a keypad and a wardrobe hissed into view. Matt stripped of his DareDevil gear and hung his Billy-club. Spare gear lined the wall. To Peter’s surprise Matt didn’t change into any sort of pajama. He grinned in Peter’s direction and paddled to the kitchen in briefs. Peter realized he’d been staring only when Matt commented that the tempo of his heart sped up. Matt smirked at him and Peter felt like he’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. 

“Come on, Pete. This isn’t the first time you’ve seen my near-naked.” 

The Man Without Fear of Public Exposure was a more likely title. Peter didn’t know if the man had something against clothes or just didn’t care but he often paraded about in his undies. It wasn’t much of a problem until Aunt May dropped by for a surprise visit and Matt got to the door before Peter. 

“I know that,” he sputtered back and Matt lit another smirk. He was blowing through them like cigarettes. Peter fidgeted by the counter as Matt fixed a cup of something and put it in the microwave. He anticipated a quick tour of the apartment then sex; lots of make-up sex. On his own turf Matt followed a routine Peter didn’t know the steps to and the anxiety was driving him up the wall. Scratch that, the apartment wasn’t big enough to crawl up a wall. 

“Peter, relax.” 

Matt squeezed his arm and Peter remembered Uncle Ben doing the same when he had nightmares. It was a different sort of love but made his heart swell and hop, like a cart-wheeling otter. Judging by Matt’s smile he felt it to. On cue the microwave dinged and Peter smelt hot coca. Greedy fingers ensnared the drink before Matt could pass it to him. Peter stole a dark chocolate flavored kiss from Matt; rich and bitter, a dichotomy of sinful pleasure.

“You don’t strike me as the coca sort of guy.” 

“Well, you never know when you might have spider that needs coaxing out of the corner.” 

Peter laughed around another shared kiss. “Spiders don’t eat chocolate.”

“I could get you chocolate covered crickets.” The seriousness of Matt’s tone earned him a playful smack to his shoulder.

Anticipation hummed through both men as Matt went about the chores of returning home and Peter finished his coca. They edged around each other like kids confronted with “It” while playing tag. Peter warred with himself to study the architecture of Matt’s apartment or his ass. Both seemed a nice idea. 

“You should take off your clothes, they’ll get wet,” Matt announced. 

With that gem of bizarre knowledge Peter discarded his drink to follow Matt to his bedroom. Matt stripped of his briefs and folded the undies in a neat triangle but Peter was too distracted by his partner’s coffin to care. That’s right, coffin. A sepulcher, a tomb, a casket. Peter had no other words to describe the body-shaped vault in the middle of the room where a bed should be. At least there was a rack of cozy towels to make him feel a little more at ease despite how out of place it looked.

“Are you a vampire?” It would explain Matt’s imagery. Laughter like the last great joke told around a Thanksgiving meal bubbled from Matt and Peter couldn’t help but follow his lead.

“Maybe I am.” His hands were at Peter’s ribs, cold fingers making him shiver as he peeled away the Spidy-suit. “Wanna test it out and see if I am?” 

Lips ghosted around Peter’s neck and hands roamed the contour of his torso. Peter met Matt with the same hungry fervor of eating a delicate treat one wanted to last. Stripped of clothes, the pair inched to the coffin and Peter had never felt more like a moth than a spider. 

To his great surprise the coffin was filled with water. Peter stopped his motions to inspect the pool. It was warm but not hot with a back rest set into the vault. He ran his fingers over it as Matt explained. 

“If I keep my ears underwater the noise isn’t so bad. The rest is there to make sure I don’t drown.” 

A flash of pity surged through Peter that Matt had to go to such lengths to sleep but the thought was chased away by harsh kisses. 

“Don’t do that. You promised you wouldn’t do that,” Matt swore. One of their terms from the beginning of their friendship was that Peter would never pity Matt’s situation or belittle his abilities. Hot shame coated Peter’s cheeks and he pressed closer for another apologetic kiss. 

“So what, we gonna do this on the floor?” Rutting against each other on what he suspected was bathroom tile did not sound like a good example of a fun time. 

“Nah, I thought we’d use my bed.” Peter looked over his shoulder at the coffin. Sex on the cold floor felt a bit more appealing. “It’s not that bad. At least sleeping isn’t. I never had someone with me in it.” 

Peter sprang into the chamber in an instant. Nothing against Matt’s ex-s but to do something with the man that he hadn’t before was like discovering unicorns. Grinning, Matt let himself be guided into the chamber. The backrest was more comfortable than it looked; a snug plastic rubber that conformed to his back without losing shape. The material that made Peter’s own webbing acted the same. It grabbed onto a person but allowed for maneuverability. He pulled Matt down to press a kiss to his forehead.

“You okay if I shut this thing?” Matt asked when Peter settled. They ambled around the backrest meant for one and Peter found he was having a little trouble keeping his head above the water. Mat switched their possessions. Peter watched in amazement as Matt settled like a muted stereo once his ears were underwater. Peace like he’d never seen before washed over the man. 

“Yeah, go ahead,” Peter said as he snuggled closer. He didn’t know if Matt heard him but his partner clicked another button and the sarcophagus lid closed. 

Silence and darkness enveloped Peter like silk over an old wound he’d forgotten about until the pain was blanketed. Nothing existed but Matt’s breathing, the pulse of his blood, and a splash of water as they accommodated to each other’s presence. It was a moment beyond intimacy. The whole world dropped away as their hearts chases after the same rhythm till Peter couldn’t tell one apart from the other. The hairs lining his skin probed and hooked into Matt’s and with his super senses Peter thought they shared the same body. He couldn’t imagine what it must be like for Matt whose senses surpassed Peter’s.

“Oh – oh Pete.” His hand trembled as he traced Peter’s face and Matt’s lips were commanding attention. Matt bucked up to Peter with the same feverish intensity as their first time together. Peter tosses his controls over to instinct and ground against his partner. “Oh Peter, it’s like you’re everywhere.” 

Matt’s voice strained and Peter knew he was in trouble. Matt had never been a vocal lover but attention starved canaries were quieter than the downright mewls he was making.

“All over, Pete. Oh – you’re everywhere.” An overwhelmed sense of awe claimed Matt and he added humble kisses to Peter’s lips in contrast to shameless rutting. Peter wasn’t going to complain. “Shit! It feels like you’re already inside me.” 

“I know Matt, I feel it to.” 

The Man Without Fear was almost sobbing with emotion in his arms, delightfully dizzy in the throes of a roller coaster. Kisses smeared into sucking nips and Peter knew they were both close. He reached a hand down to their cocks and squeezed, Matt howling with want as nails bit into Peter’s hips and back. Never had sex felt so absolute, not with Electra and not with Mary Jane. 

Matt’s breath hitched and Peter moaned around an open kiss as white ribbons painted their shared skin. When he had the sense to, Matt pressed another button that drained the water, leaving the pair clinging to each other as they waited for the tub to fill again. Steam between their bodies was the only think keeping Peter from shaking with cold. A vent cycled in fresh air but that noise wasn’t loud enough to drown out the babble Matt spoke against Peter’s collar bone. 

He murmured something along the lines of ‘fuck, Peter’ and ‘so good baby’.

‘I love you’ was unspoken but known between the pair. Both felt exposed enough without dragging that elephant into the open. In time, Peter hoped. In time Matt wouldn’t need to hide things anymore. 

For now the silence between them was more than anything he could have dreamed.


End file.
